


Home for the Holidays (Mission Three)

by ReRe-Persona (Remembrance)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Serious at Times, Silly at Times, Sorry Not Sorry, dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remembrance/pseuds/ReRe-Persona
Summary: Messed up families have messed up holidays, but that’s all part of the fun. Maybe. Ren returns home with Goro, in hopes of getting the holidays over with, but somewhere between Sojiro’s new habits and Futaba’s last minute plan – things are a lot more tangled than that. At least family gatherings sure are animated. Can the holiday spirit help bring this family together? Maybe. Are Ren and Goro going to lose their h*cking minds? Maybe.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Isshiki Wakaba/Sakura Sojiro, Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakura Futaba, Mishima Yuuki/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104





	Home for the Holidays (Mission Three)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. It’s my first time writing P5 Fic, so I’m nervous af. Just wanted to give a shoutout to my beta, Ko, as well as to Hina, Taya, and Lev who all encouraged me. Anyway, I’m so gay because I love how this turned out—I hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> * * *

His phone beeped twice, but he ignored it. Ren sighed as he moved his hair back slightly. The endless list of different venues, different cups, different spoons… While he was thankful their planner had cut it down, it was still—all in all—too much at times. Despite it, he continued to work, researching and looking things up. His phone beeped again. Three more times.  
  
This time Goro looked up from across the table, eyeing his phone.  
  
Ren grabbed his phone, seeing the group chat name, _Mission Three,_ and sighed. “It’s my siblings.” He muted the chat without looking at the messages. “Sorry.”  
  
They continued to work, glass dining room table covered with papers. One laptop, one tablet, each.  
  
Goro wrote something down, then flicked his red eyes to Ren’s phone again. “What are they on about?” He offered a small smile. “You guys don’t exactly… talk anymore.”  
  
“Christmas,” Ren mumbled. “It’s coming up.”  
  
“Oh. Joy.”  
  
Ren glanced at him.  
  
Goro smiled. “Don’t worry.” He nudged Ren’s foot from under the table. “I can tell you’re nervous. We’ll just pretend everything’s fine and happy on our end.”  
  
Ren looked to where Goro’s foot was rubbing his. “Are we not happy?” He looked up.  
  
“That’s not what I meant.” Goro let out a small laugh. “It’s just… you know how they are. They… like poking holes in our lives.”  
  
“Harsh…”  
  
“Ah.” Goro looked away. “Sorry, then…”  
  
“No.” Ren shook his head. “You’re not wrong…” He looked at his phone, its darkened screen. “It’ll be good to see everyone again, despite how much we’re at each other’s throats.”  
  
“Yeah.” Goro nodded. “Your family’s Christmases are… Well, interesting? Loud.” He mulled it over, probably finding some diplomatic, polite way to speak his thoughts. “We can… always count on them being entertaining anyway.”  
  
“Hm.” Ren nudged Goro’s ankle with his foot. “Are we not happy and fine?”  
  
Goro blinked as he looked up. “Hm?”  
  
“We’re happy,” Ren said softly. “It’s just the stress of it all. Engagement, planning a wedding, work on top of it—”  
  
“Ugh.” Goro shoved the papers away. “I don’t want to deal with this wedding…”  
  
“It’s just a small reception,” Ren reminded. “Plus, it’ll be easier if we just do one for the family… I don’t want one either, but we’ll get flak for years if we don’t.”  
  
Goro sighed and looked out to the side, where the window of their small condominium showed the city alight below. “Christmas, huh…? I guess it’s been half a year since we got engaged…”  
  
“Are you getting cold feet?” Ren smiled. “Come on. I’ll make you a cup of tea. Everything’s better after a cup of tea, we—”  
  
His phone rang.  
  
_Mission Three._  
  
Ren frowned at his phone. He sighed. “One sec…”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren stepped into another room, hitting the green answer button. He reeled as two voices hit his ear. “Hello,” he murmured.  
  
_“Yo,”_ came his sister’s voice.  
  
_“H-Hey,”_ came his brother’s, _“There you are! Neither of you ever answer me.”_  
  
Ren pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.  
  
He could hear his sister sigh as well.  
  
His brother complained, _“You two always treat me like that!”_  
  
Ren said nothing.  
  
His sister shot back, _“Well what do you want?”_  
  
_“Geez, Futaba… can’t you be a bit nicer? At least a bit?”_  
  
Futaba said, _“Fine. Sorry. What? I just got a lot on my mind right now…”_  
  
_“W-Well, you’re not the only one,”_ came his brother’s voice, _“Anyway… I’m worried about Wakaba.”_  
  
_“Mom?”_ Futaba’s voice rose slightly, _“What’s wrong with her?”_  
  
Ren frowned. “What’s wrong with mom?”  
  
_“Well… I don’t really know. But mom—my mom, I mean—said she’s been acting super strange lately? And Sojiro’s avoiding the topic with both of us. Anyway, mom just doesn’t want Christmas to get all weird because Wakaba’s acting weird.”_  
  
_“I’ll call her,”_ Futaba assured, _“Right now.”_  
  
_“O-Oh… Well, uh… Maybe it would be better if Ren…?”_  
  
Ren blinked.  
  
Futaba made a confused noise.  
  
_“Well, Futaba, you and Wakaba argue a lot… I just think it would be better if Ren dealt with it, you know?”_  
  
_“Hey I take offense!”_ Futaba made an indignant noise, but sighed. _“Fine, whatever. Let Ren deal with it. He’s Mister Perfect as far as our family’s concerned.”_  
  
“I can’t.”  
  
Both of them made sudden noises, loud enough that Ren yanked his ear away from his phone.  
  
“I…” Ren sighed again. “I don’t have a lot of time… I have to prep for a meeting for work tomorrow… and after that Goro and I are going to meet with someone to choose our plates. We’ve also got to choose a catering company… it’s overdue. Flowers, too…”  
  
_“Huh?”_ Futaba must have been glaring. _“Why do you care about plates or flowers?”_  
  
_“Th-The,”_ his brother jumped in, _“The wedding, Futaba.”_  
  
_“Oh right. The wedding. For the perfect couple.”_  
  
Ren’s lips pursed into a tight line. He breathed through his nose. “You could be happy for me, maybe?” His words came with more bite than he’d expected, but he didn’t regret it. The acidic tinge was nice. “I just, don’t have time… right now…”  
  
_“I was happy for you, six months ago,”_ Futaba reminded. _“Now it just sounds like an excuse to not talk to us anymore, and to get out of things.”_  
  
His brother said, quietly, _“Futaba…”_  
  
Ren glanced out the window, to the city below. “We…” His eyes softened. “We weren’t always like this…”  
  
The city lights flickered.  
  
Ren closed his eyes. His ears almost missed their loud noises. He sighed loudly. “Well, Futaba… you figure it out. Text me if you need anything…” Not that Ren would read them, but…  
  
_“Oh,”_ his brother said, _“Also, this year—”_  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
_“He’s bringing a boyfriend!?”_ Wakaba’s voice screeched into her ear, like a heat seeking missile to her eardrum.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
Instant K.O.  
  
Futaba held the phone between her ear and shoulder, stepping into her messy townhouse apartment. She rolled her eyes, as Wakaba – again – ignored the important part of what she said. She threw her bag on the sofa and moved her hair out of her face.  
  
After a twelve hour work day (that was supposed to only have been seven), she didn’t know why she’d agreed to call Wakaba and deal with this. Mister Perfect should be dealing with it! Futaba’s stupid job was killing her. She’d recently accepted a promotion. Team Lead, they called it. It wasn’t bad, but the whole job didn’t speak to her.  
  
She loved coding, loved building things… but a dating website wasn’t exactly something she was passionate about. She’d enjoyed making all the holiday decorations in the stylesheets, and all the new holiday functions—gingerbread cookie points—her idea, of course.  
  
But still, she wished she did something else, coded literally anything else.  
  
_“Futaba?”_  
  
“Yeah,” she replied, shutting her eyes. “He’s bringing a boyfriend.”  
  
_“What’s his name? How old is he? How did they meet…? How long have they been together, Futaba? Oh, I hope he’s not just bringing any boy for the holidays—”_  
  
“I don’t know!” Futaba rushed to her kitchen drawer where she took out a packet of instant coffee. Sojiro would probably roll in pain if he knew. She heated up the kettle. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, okay?”  
  
_“Why not, honey? You know he struggles to make social connections, let alone romantic—”_  
  
“Hey, Mom.” Futaba poured hot water into the mug. “I’m changing the subject. Are you doing okay?”  
  
There was a pause, then a confused, _“Yes, why?”_  
  
“Well, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just heard—”  
  
_“I’m doing fine. I’m going to bake a couple different cakes this year. Sojiro’s doing okay too, of course. Your father and I aren’t that old!”_  
  
“I know!” Futaba laughed. “That’s not what I meant. How is Dad doing anyw—”  
  
_“Sojiro keeps eating yogurt. I told you he recently became lactose intolerant, right? But he still eats yogurt. It makes him whine in pain, it’s moronic. He keeps eating it. I tell him, ‘Sojiro, stop eating yogurt!’ but does he listen? No! He doesn’t—”_  
  
Futaba zoned out.  
  
Her coffee’s aroma was bitter, yet rich.  
  
Nowhere near as good as a regular cup, but Futaba had added a spoon of sugar and it wasn’t terrible. Nothing like Dad’s homemade coffee, but it would do. Her eyes drifted along her kitchen counter, where—past the mess of dirty dishes and plates—there was a Save the Date card, for Ren and Goro’s wedding.  
  
A pang of jealousy shot into her back, ripping her ribs open from the inside out.  
  
Critical hit.  
  
Stupid perfect boys, perfect couple, Futaba thought, with their perfect hair and their stupid smiles.  
  
Futaba sighed.  
  
_“Exactly,”_ Wakaba was still going on.  
  
“Yeah.” Futaba blinked. “I gotta go mom.”  
  
_“Oh. Alright… Well, I’ll see you on Christmas Eve? There’s no way you could leave a little earlier…?”_  
  
“Nope.” Futaba pursed her lips. “I work until the Eve,” she lied. Not that much of a lie. She got off at noon, so she would arrive a few hours earlier, but she didn’t really want to be there for any longer than she had to. “But yeah, I’ll text you when I’m off the flight. Going to take a taxi.”  
  
_“We could pick you up?”_  
  
“No, a friend is driving me.”  
  
_“You just said taxi—”_  
  
“Gotta go!”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren sighed as he finished the last of his preparations for the meeting tomorrow. He needed to close this deal before the holidays, though his business partner was under the same pressure. Ren turned off his devices, and plugged his phone in.  
  
Ren was tired.  
  
He didn’t want to think about his parents, or his siblings.  
  
As he approached the bed, in the dark, he reached to the ring on his right hand, on his pinkie finger. A simple, lightweight, silver band. Unlike the engagement ring on his ring finger, this one was different. It was from his biological mom, a woman he’d never known, and never would know. He wore it, and he didn’t know why, but some days it felt heavy. Really, Wakaba – his adoptive mother – was his only mom-mom. Tae Takemi was a close second, but his biological mother… whoever she was…  
  
Ren liked to pretend, some days, that she’d loved him dearly. Other days, when he wanted sympathy, he would think of her as someone who’d thrown him out as a child.  
  
He took the ring off.  
  
Ren had to accept that some things in life he would never know.  
  
He put the ring down, letting it rest on his bedside table.  
  
It was okay to not know.  
  
Ren slipped under the sheets, moving closer to the other lump under the blankets. He slipped his arms around Goro, finding him incredibly warm, and he smiled. Usually, Ren preferred to be the big spoon, but today he wanted to curl up in Goro’s chest, hide there for a while.  
  
“Hm.” Goro made a small noise; no doubt, he was smiling in the dark. He slipped one arm around Ren, and guided his head against his chest. “Hey.”  
  
Ren closed his eyes, nuzzling his collar. “Hey.”  
  
Goro’s hand moved soothingly down his arm. “You okay…?”  
  
“I’m good.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
Ren only replied with, “What?”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
Ren took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There’s something bugging me,” he admitted, “But I won’t let it get to me. Mind over matter… if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
Goro brought his hand up to play with Ren’s hair. “How long are you going to pretend that’ll work forever, hm?”  
  
Ren brought his hand up, so his knuckles could brush up against Goro’s cheek.  
  
Goro let out a small laugh. “Ren, you didn’t answer me. What’s bugging you?”  
  
“It’s just… some family drama. Mom’s acting weird. Futaba’s being… rude to me. I don’t know. Yuuki’s got a boyfriend now.”  
  
“Mishima’s dating someone?” Goro rolled over to face him. “Really?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Good for him.” Goro smiled in the dark. “What kind of guy is he? What does he do?”  
  
Ren shrugged. “Didn’t ask…”  
  
Goro said nothing for a while. He sank down a little, so they were eye level. “Why not…? Mishima’s your brother.” He nudged Ren softly. “Did you ask anything…?”  
  
“I got a lot on my plate,” Ren defended. He sighed. “I just.” He ducked his head. “I’ll meet him anyway. Doesn’t matter.”  
  
Goro stared at him. Now that Ren’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, he saw that gorgeous face looking at him with an unreadable expression. Goro only sighed and brought a hand up to Ren’s cheek.  
  
“What?” Ren smiled softly. “What now…?”  
  
“It’s just. You know…” Goro poked his nose. “You’re not fine.”  
  
“I am fine.”  
  
Goro sighed.  
  
“I’ll be fine. It’s okay.” Ren shook his head. “If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”  
  
“And me?”  
  
“You’ll be fine too.”  
  
“Great.” Goro rolled his eyes. “How comforting.”  
  
Ren only huffed. He pushed his head against Goro’s neck, and he felt Goro wrap those arms around him. Ren smiled softly in the warmth. He was right, though, everything would be fine. Just fine.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“Yep.” Mishima said as he balanced two mugs in his hands, moving from the kitchen to the living room. “I’m bringing a boy this year.”  
  
_“News to me,”_ Takemi’s voice came from the other end, _“Is he real?”_  
  
Mishima frowned. He pulled his head away from the phone for a sec. “What? Yes.”  
  
_“You hesitated.”_  
  
“Well, Mom, that’s an odd question to ask someone!”  
  
_“When did you meet this mystery boy, huh?”_  
  
“Last year.”  
  
_“Last year?”_  
  
“Well, yeah. I met him through work.” Mishima navigated through the oddly arranged furniture of his boyfriend’s apartment. “We’ve been dating for about a year, I guess… He wasn’t serious enough to bring home last Christmas, and honestly I didn’t think we would last at the time, but he’s really great, if you meet him—”  
  
_“This isn’t some guy you found at Shitty Chicken, is he?”_  
  
“What!?”  
  
_“I’m just saying! Maybe you asked him to lie to be your boyfriend this year for Christmas.”_  
  
“What? No!” Mishima sighed. He almost whined as he said, “He’s real! He’s a real boy, mom!”  
  
_“What’s his name, then?”_  
  
“Ryuji!” Mishima felt his chest flutter. “Ryuji Sakamoto…”  
  
“Yeah!?” came another voice, “What’s up, Babe?”  
  
_“Babe!?”_  
  
Ryuji slipped an arm around Mishima, kissing his neck.  
  
Mishima almost yelped. “Mom! Shut up! Stop laughing!” He handed the steaming cups to Ryuji. “Here.”  
  
“Thanks!” Ryuji took the mugs and pulled away. “You’re talking to your mom!?”  
  
“Yes!” Mishima could feel Ryuji getting handsy, and he wiggled away slightly. “And she doesn’t think you’re real!”  
  
“Hi!” Ryuji leaned in to speak at the phone, “I’m real! I promise!”  
  
Takemi’s laugh was warm. _“Okay, okay. See you two soon then… and I’m making your favourite – the cheese puffs. Don’t be late, Yuuki.”_  
  
“I won’t!” Mishima pouted. “And save some for Ryuji.”  
  
_“I will!”_  
  
Mishima hung up. He sighed. “She’s always like that…” He dropped onto the couch with a slight bounce, sighing again.  
  
Ryuji sat down gently, putting the two mugs on the table in front of them. “Like what?”  
  
“She asked me if I found you at Shitty Chicken and made you lie!”  
  
Ryuji moved his head back as he squinted. “Shitty…?”  
  
“Oh, it’s a place called City Chicken, but with the font—no that’s.” Mishima sighed. “That’s not important.” He waved his hands around. “The important part is… who does that? Who would just expect their son’s boyfriend to be a big lie from a chicken restaurant!?”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Mishima laid his head against Ryuji’s shoulder.  
  
Ryuji gave a big smile as he pulled him in. “Come on.” He took one of the coffee mugs and offered it to Mishima. “Families are supposed to be difficult.”  
  
“If it was just her it would be fine…” Mishima sipped his drink. “But Futaba and Ren too. They’re both like that, always ignoring me… Christmas is going to be hell.” He sat up. “Sorry.” He looked at Ryuji. “Are you sure you want to come?”  
  
“Well, if it’s gonna be hell, I’d rather be there with you.” Ryuji smirked and kissed his cheek. “Plus, you come to my shows… only fair I come to yours.”  
  
“Oh my God—” Mishima put the cup down and shut his eyes. “I didn’t even think about how I’m going to explain _that_ to my family…”  
  
Ryuji snickered.  
  
“I’m not!” Mishima’s spine went straight. “I’m not judging you or anything—”  
  
Ryuji leaned in, kissing him rough. “Nah, I get it. You’re supportive as fuck to me, but telling your family is going to be weird.”  
  
“They’re.” Mishima shut his eyes. “My family is going to think I’m dating a stripper!”  
  
“I’m an _exotic dancer,_ Yuuki.”  
  
“I know! But they won’t know the difference! They’re going to think I’m sleeping with an escort—no! She’s going to think you _are_ a guy I picked up at Shitty Chicken!”  
  
Ryuji threw his head back in a laugh. “I don’t sleep with my clients.”  
  
Mishima blushed.  
  
“Well, except you…” Ryuji mumbled, “But, hey, it was you. You’re cute.”  
  
“I can feel them judging me already…” Mishima sighed. “Futaba’s gonna laugh at me. And Ren will look at me… with that stupid perfect hair, and that stupid perfect relationship, perfect engagement…” He slogged his coffee. “You know what? We’re not going. They’re just going to ruin Christmas for us!”  
  
“Nah, we’re going.” Ryuji grinned. “If they’re gonna ruin Christmas, then let’s just do it first. Maybe we can get shitface drunk!”  
  
Mishima turned to him.  
  
Ryuji’s smile dropped. “Babe.” He sat up. “I was kidding, I was—”  
  
“Let’s do it!” Mishima stood up, raising his fists up to his chest. “Let’s turn Christmas into a shit show!”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Futaba waited for her aisle to be called before she boarded the plane. Putting her carry on overhead, she took her seat—the aisle seat, not even a window seat—and sank into the chair. Her thoughts drifted to her family, about how she couldn’t wait for another year to be the family disappointment yet again, when her phone beeped.  
  
She grabbed it, only to turn it off before take-off, but it was a text from her mother.  
  
Futaba’s eyes widened. “What the f—”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Goro stared at his phone and blinked. “Is your.” He turned on his heel to face Ren. “Is your mother okay?”  
  
Ren stared at his phone as well. “I…” He put his phone down. “I’m going to make a cup of tea,” he announced.  
  
“I’m guessing that’s a no.”  
  
“If I make a cup of tea, everything will be fine.”  
  
Goro stared at him. “And I’m guessing you’re not okay either.”  
  
“If I make a cup of tea,” Ren repeated as he filled the kettle, “Everything will be fine.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“Wakaba.” Sojiro said in the middle of their large kitchen, from across the island counter. “What exactly is this text I got…?”  
  
“Not just you.” Wakaba offered a smile and a diplomatic nod. “I sent it to everyone. I thought it would be fantastic. Don’t you think so?”  
  
Sojiro took a careful breath, trying not to make it come out as a sigh. “This sounds more like a pain than anything else.”  
  
“Well, help me decorate, Sojiro. I can’t make this whole house festive all by myself.” She paused suddenly, looking at all the empty halls. “It would be nice to have them back… They’ll love the new theme too, don’t you think?”  
  
Sojiro closed his eyes. He sighed. “Will they?”  
  
“Well, Goro and Ren are getting married next year. And Yuuki’s bringing a boyfriend this year! Futaba, well… you know how she is. I’m sure Tae is still single. You and I on the other hand—” She pointed at him. “—Twenty years of marriage! Isn’t that wonderful!?”  
  
“Wakaba, we’re getting a divorce.”  
  
“Yes. We are. But that’s a _secret!”_ She raised a finger up. “Our theme this year is ‘Love and Romance’, and that we’re going to celebrate our twenty years this Christmas! We raised three beautiful kids, and they’re all successful. Futaba is a coordinator now, and Yuuki does accounting for a few clubs downtown, while Ren’s business deals are expanding. Goro too, can’t forget him, is one heck of a lawyer. And us!” She moved around the kitchen busily. “Between my coding and your coffee projects, we may be retiring soon, but we have so much to—”  
  
“Wakaba!” Sojiro put his hands on the counter. “What are you doing…?”  
  
“Decorating.”  
  
“I…” Sojiro closed his eyes, huffing a breath through his nose. He opened his eyes. “I see that.”  
  
“I need to finish,” Wakaba explained, “Or the desserts won’t be ready in time. You’ll need the oven for the turkey, so I have to get the cakes done early.”  
  
“Wakaba… What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing!” Wakaba smiled. “We’re fine, Sojiro. Just fine! According to you, anyway!”  
  
Sojiro turned away from her and opened the fridge. He grabbed a small snack-size pack, and—  
  
“Put it back.”  
  
Sojiro spun to face her.  
  
Wakaba glared. “Sojiro Sakura. You are lactose intolerant. Stop eating yogurt.”  
  
Sojiro mumbled, “Fine.”  
  
Wakaba’s glare deepened. “You’re going to eat it as soon as I leave.”  
  
“No!” Sojiro yelled, “Of course not! Do you take me for an idiot?”  
  
Wakaba said nothing, only leaving the room to grab other decorations.  
  
Sojiro opened the fridge and yanked the yogurt out. Snatching a spoon, he began shoveling the thick white heaven into his mouth, gobbling it down in a craze.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Futaba’s flight came into town early. It was a short flight, only forty or so minutes, but it sure as hell beat the two hour drive—probably three or four with holiday traffic. Futaba got off the plane and grabbed her backpack, her only carry on. She walked through the airport, sighing.  
  
She had a few hours to kill before Christmas dinner.  
  
Futaba didn’t want to go.  
  
No one had said it outright, but Futaba felt it. She was the family disappointment. The Weirdo. Wakaba had tried to soften it, saying she was just like her—but when Wakaba was her age, she had her beat in every way. School? Wakaba had her third degree by now, Futaba only had one. Job? Wakaba was managing projects for forty staff, while Futaba was overseeing only six. Romance? Wakaba had a long line of boyfriends, and girlfriends, while Futaba had a big fat zero.  
  
Futaba didn’t really care about dating, to be honest.  
  
But between the pressures of being the only woman who coded for a dating website (she had to constantly remind them she was just as clueless as they were), and now the theme of “Love and Romance” for the Christmas party (who the hell put a theme for a Christmas party anyway? Futaba thought “Christmas” was the theme for a Christmas party), it felt blatantly obvious she was lacking in her own lines of code.  
  
Ren and Goro had been dating since high school, ten years ago – though they had some on and off years in college – while Mishima now had a boyfriend.  
  
Futaba looked up. She could just be like Auntie Tae and be single, but Futaba—for the first time—wished she wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t healthy to want a relationship for the sake of a relationship, for the sake of making parents happy (for making her family see her as less of a freak), but it would certainly make everything easier.  
  
Maybe equipping a boyfriend came with resistance to Family Damage? Is that why Ren had everything so easy?  
  
She shook her head, shaking those thoughts.  
  
With the few hours she had left, she walked and walked, down the familiar streets of her childhood (not that she lived that far anyway), and eventually came across the one place that was truly home for her.  
  
Shitty Chicken.  
  
Futaba smiled.  
  
It was supposed to read “City Chicken,” but somewhere between the cursive lettering and the weird C that had the thingy underneath it, everyone referred to it only as Shitty Chicken.  
  
It was the best, and worst, fried chicken Futaba had ever tasted, and she loved it.  
  
She stepped in, smelling the grease, knowing it permeated the air in a way that would damage her fur coat forever. There was only one other person eating here… not surprising since it was Christmas Eve.  
  
She ordered her usual, and sat down.  
  
She began eating out of the mesh basket, but looked up.  
  
The man at the other table was staring—but quickly looked away.  
  
Weirdo, whatever. Futaba bit into the crunchy exterior, feeling the juices of the chicken drumstick flood her mouth in a way that was dripping with fats not known to man. Beautiful. But—  
  
The man was looking at her.  
  
Futaba glared.  
  
He looked away.  
  
Futaba tried to enjoy another bite, but—“What!?”  
  
The man seized up, straightening his spine and shaking. “I-I—”  
  
“What?! Got a kink for the fat chick eating fried chicken!?”  
  
“What…? No!” The man scoffed. “And you could hardly be considered overweight. You look as though you resemble a healthy body-mass index, and—”  
  
“Whatever!” Futaba yelled, “When you got two brothers who are twinks, you end up being the big one, okay!?”  
  
“Ah. Self-comparison is highly damaging to one’s psychology, especially when relating body image, and—”  
  
Futaba got up and stomped over. She slammed her foot into his table, shaking the whole restaurant. “Who, _the fuck,_ are you!?”  
  
“Oh, hello. I, _the fuck,_ am Yusuke Kitagawa.”  
  
“Okay, Yusuke.” Futaba glared at him. “Why are you watching me eat!?”  
  
“I,” Yusuke explained, “Am attempting to learn.”  
  
“Fucking twinks…” She sighed, putting her hand over her head. “What the hell are you trying to learn?”  
  
“How to eat fried chicken.”  
  
“Wh—” She threw her hand aside to glare at him. “Why don’t you know?”  
  
Yusuke said simply, “I have never done it before.”  
  
Futaba stared.  
  
“Ah, silence in the conversation. I assume this is a form of inquiry? Very well.” He dusted off his suit and put his hands in his lap. “I was raised to be vegetarian, you see. Although it has been a few months since I have incorporated meat into my diet, I have never tried this phenomenon known as fried chicken. As such, I decided to order all the options—tenders, wings, and drums. However…” He looked sadly upon his basket. “I am unsure as to how to proceed. No fork or knife was provided. That’s when I noticed your expert skill!” He smiled at her. “You used to the bones as handles—fascinating! I had not thought of it. The bones would make effective handles, but since they were covered by the fried batter as well, it led me to believe—”  
  
Futaba turned away. She grabbed her basket and dropped herself in the seat in front of him. “Okay idiot. Here! I’ll teach you.”  
  
“You are quite rude,” Yusuke said quietly. He looked away. “I did not think I was capable of upsetting someone so much…”  
  
“No, I’m…” Futaba took a deep breath. Her shoulders slumped. She looked down. “I’m upset about other things…”  
  
“Oh! Delightful.”  
  
“It’s Christmas and all, so…”  
  
“I see.” Yusuke nodded with a small smile. “Many find joy in the holidays… but others find it quite an upsetting time… Especially with such an expectation to be happy, it makes holidays even more difficult.”  
  
“Yeah.” Futaba sighed. “It’s just, there’s so much family bullshit going on right now.”  
  
“Ah, family. Quite a form of stress for some.” Yusuke nodded thoughtfully. “Especially if one grew up with the tendency to compare body image to—”  
  
“Can you shut up!?”  
  
“I would be unable to contribute to the conversation if I were to—”  
  
“Okay, you 1 HP Minion.” Futaba grabbed a chicken wing. “This is how you eat a wing.”  
  
Yusuke nodded sagely.  
  
Futaba guided Yusuke through eating the different types, and eventually Futaba asked what he thought.  
  
“These flavours!” Yusuke’s face soured. “My throat and fingers are covered by oil! It is nothing but fat and salt! It has turned such a fine, lean meat into unhealthy slosh! It is _fantastic_ —my brain is flooded with warm dopamine!”  
  
Futaba barked a laugh.  
  
Yusuke paused and looked at her, eyes widening slightly. His cheeks tinged pink.  
  
Futaba also felt her cheeks warm. “Wh-What…?”  
  
“Nothing…” Yusuke wiped his face with his seventy-second napkin. “Thank you for your time, especially on today. You have made my Christmas Eve quite an experience.”  
  
“Oh.” Futaba looked at him. “That’s right…” She grabbed her backpack. “I better get going…”  
  
“I hope this time with your family is easy for you.” Yusuke was about to say something else, but closed his mouth. A look from Futaba made him tense and swallow hard. “It is just that… this question may be invasive, but I am curious as to why your family causes you so much unhappiness.”  
  
“Oh.” Futaba hugged her backpack. “It’s not… They’re a good family. Really! It’s just. I don’t know… Mom made this big thing about romance this year, and I’m going to be single. My brothers both have partners this year, but I don’t…”  
  
“Ah.” Yusuke nodded. “So you will be alone, when everyone else will have someone.”  
  
Futaba nodded as well.  
  
The rotating fan above kept whirring.  
  
Futaba looked at Yusuke.  
  
Yusuke looked at Futaba.  
  
Futaba coughed. “Are you, um… doing anything tonight?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You don’t have, uh, family in the area?”  
  
“I have no family.”  
  
“Oh.” Futaba stared, a small smile creeping up. “I’m sure you have friends in the area who—”  
  
“I have no friends,” Yusuke admitted. “However. If you are about to ask me what I believe you are… the answer is yes.”  
  
Futaba grinned. “Really!? You’ll—”  
  
“—join you for Christmas, yes,” Yusuke agreed, a small smile forming on his lips.  
  
“Y-You know.” Futaba stared at him. “You’re going to have to pretend to be my boyfriend, right?”  
  
“Indeed. That will not be a concern.” Yusuke’s cheeks warmed. “You are knowledgeable about things I am not, entertaining, and quite attractive—with a healthy body-mass index, too. Not that such a thing contributes to my judgement, I just wanted to assure you—”  
  
Futaba felt her face flush with heat. “Wh-What? Me?”  
  
“Yes. You also have a nice laugh, and a fantastic smile.” Yusuke tilted his head slightly. “I think I would quite enjoy painting this ruse with you.”  
  
“Yes!” Futaba yelled as she pumped her fists, “Yes! I’m not going to be single for once!”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“What about that coffee shop?”  
  
“No, it’s cursed.”  
  
Ryuji raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Well.” Mishima glanced over. A small dingy cafe named _Mission Three,_ it always made him smile, and he chuckled even today. “Everything is gross in there. C’mon, let me take you to Sojiro’s old place, before he retired and gave it up.”  
  
About five minutes later, they stepped out with two hot chocolates.  
  
Mishima nursed his, blowing on it as he held it in green mittens, watching the steam rise and swirl.  
  
Ryuji slipped an arm around him as they walked. “So the house is this way?”  
  
“Mhm.” Mishima nodded. “The commercial area becomes residential just here.” He sighed. His eyes softened. “I’m kinda nervous…”  
  
Ryuji chuckled. “You’re telling me!? I’m about to meet your whole family… So, can you go over everyone for me?”  
  
“Sure.” Mishima laughed. “Well, there’s my mom, right?”  
  
“Tae, uh? Takemi?”  
  
“Yeah.” Mishima nodded. “Her sister is Wakaba.”  
  
“Married to Sojiro?”  
  
“Yep. For twenty years. That’s going to be important, apparently, since the theme is _Love and Romance,_ and all.”  
  
“Twenty years of marriage…?” Ryuji raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t judging, but you guys are all around twenty-five, so—”  
  
“Well, I’m mom’s adopted kid, you know that. Futaba’s the only biological kid—from Wakaba’s first marriage. Ren was _kind of_ adopted? By Sojiro? More like someone threw him on Sojiro’s doorstep, so he kind of became a dad. When Wakaba and Sojiro got together, Futaba and Ren became siblings.”  
  
“So…” Ryuji squinted. “How do you fit in to all of this?”  
  
“I guess I’m technically their cousin,” he admitted, “But we treat each other like siblings. We grew up together, and all, in the same house and stuff. I think it made it easier for Ren, since Futaba had a biological connection to Wakaba, so… I don’t know. It’s all one weird family, but it works. Most days, anyway.”  
  
“So.” Ryuji nodded. “There’s three adults, and three kids. Well—you guys are adults, but. You know what I mean?”  
  
“Yeah.” Mishima smiled. “And then there’s Goro.”  
  
“Ice,” Ryuji pointed out, as they walked around it. “Goro is Ren’s fiancé? Is he cute?”  
  
“Fuck. Yeah, he’s cute.” Mishima frowned. “Ren too…”  
  
“He’s your brother?”  
  
“Not by blood! Plus, I can appreciate…” His head snapped to Ryuji. “Hey, you’re not allowed falling for anyone and then leaving me okay?”  
  
“Wh—” Ryuji reeled back. “Where the hell did that come from?”  
  
“No, they’re like, mad cute.” Mishima looked at him, deeply. “And I mean, physical attraction can lead to other things and—”  
  
“We’ve been dating over a year?” Ryuji frowned. “I’m not gonna leave you to go fuck someone else.”  
  
“Right.” Mishima nodded a few times. “I am pretty easy to sleep with, so I guess that makes sense.”  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  
“I’m just!” Mishima sighed. He stopped walking. He sipped his hot chocolate and stared up at the falling snow. “You know… my whole life I didn’t believe anyone would want me, Ryuji. I have so many issues—you know that. But when you think you’re not wanted, you settle for being useful.” Mishima forced a smile. “And I’m lucky my sex drive is as abnormally high as yours, so it works out for you.”  
  
“Uh.” Ryuji sighed. “You got real issues, Yuuki.”  
  
“I know.” Mishima nodded with a smile. “But those are my issues.” He began walking again. “Let’s just focus on tonight, and hope it all goes well.”  
  
“Mhm…” Ryuji stared. “You’re acting all weird already… Let’s just hope everything goes smoothly, yeah?”  
  
“I thought we were getting hammered and trashed tonight?”  
  
“I—” Ryuji howled into the night. “I was kidding! Don’t you want to, I don’t know, reconsider!?”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Goro took careful steps to avoid the ice patches on the sidewalk. He was bundled under two scarves—one black, one red—and still ducked his head under the collar of his brown coat. He looked at the windows they passed, little stores, little trinkets, and he paused without realising it. He stared for a long time, not thinking much.  
  
The gentle hand moving to cup his elbow pulled him out of his thoughts.  
  
Goro glanced over.  
  
Ren stared. “What is it?” He followed where Goro’s eyes had been. “A necklace? You want it…?”  
  
“No, it’s.” Goro stared at it. He bit his lip slightly. His eyes softened on each chain link. His eyelids closed once and opened again. “It’s a cheap thing. It won’t make me happy.”  
  
Ren leaned a bit closer, eyeing him carefully. He slipped a hand under Goro’s scarves, fishing out the small silver chain he wore around his neck. “You’ve already got a nicer one, too.”  
  
Goro pulled away, smiling. A fake smile. He could feel Ren’s eyes, asking him to respond, and he sighed. He looked down at his feet, and then up again. “Sometimes I see things… little trinkets, and I wish I had something like that. Something… with a story.”  
  
Ren blinked.  
  
Goro felt his cheeks warm, but he was sure Ren couldn’t tell in the cold. “A keepsake. Something, with a story. I like to pretend I did… some story of something.”  
  
Ren’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.  
  
“You have your mom’s ring…” Goro looked away. “I have nothing. Nothing to remember my mom… I mean, Dad might have something, but he’s in jail.”  
  
“A memento.” Ren took his hand. “We can make some. Together.”  
  
Goro smiled. A real one. “That’s…” He chuckled. “Not the same, and you know it.”  
  
“I’ll make you a cup of tea. You’ll be better after a cup of tea.”  
  
Goro rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren felt a sense of dread as he approached his childhood home. He just wanted everything to go off without a hitch. Was that too much to ask? He opened the door and stepped in, inviting himself in to the main foyer. Goro stepped in behind him, closing the door. Taking off their jackets and scarves, they hung them neatly.  
  
Takemi’s voice carried from inside, “I think someone’s here.”  
  
Footsteps moved as a voice called, “Hello?”  
  
“Hi,” Ren said.  
  
Goro smiled and waved. “Hello.”  
  
“Oh, boys!” Wakaba came up the couple of steps and walked over, throwing her arms around them, squeezing. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled away from them both. “And congrats on your engagement!”  
  
Goro tilted his head. “You said that already, six months ago, Wakaba.”  
  
“I know.” She put her hands together, then threw them up in the air. “But I’ll say it again!” She turned and walked off.  
  
Ren shot Goro a look.  
  
Goro bit his lip. “Yeah… something is definitely wrong with her.”  
  
“She’s not okay,” Ren whispered.  
  
Goro echoed, “She’s not okay.”  
  
Ren sighed. “Well… here we go.” He took Goro’s hand as they took the two steps down, and made a small turn to where the living room area was.  
  
The living room had a few couches around a fireplace, which was on, and several portraits. They had large vases, overturned, and the shallow cups of their bases were filled with coffee beans.  
  
Ren had thought it was weird twenty years ago—he still thought it was weird.  
  
Past the living room was the dining area, where Takemi and Sojiro sat, talking back and forth, and Wakaba hovered as she adjusted some chairs.  
  
“Ren!”  
  
“Goro!”  
  
“Hello,” they echoed in unison.  
  
Sojiro got up and gave them both hugs, as did Takemi. Sojiro motioned to the kitchen. “What can I get you? Coffee? Tea?”  
  
“Coffee,” Goro replied.  
  
Ren said, “Tea.”  
  
Sojiro shot Goro a look. “Is that a recent development of his?”  
  
Goro sighed through his nose. “Yes.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Ren said as he took a seat. “As long as I have tea, it’s fine.”  
  
“That’s right!” Wakaba grabbed two mugs. “Everything’s fine!”  
  
Goro took a seat next to Ren, moving his chair close so he could lean on him slightly. He crossed his legs and glanced at Takemi. “Tae, how’s it going? How’s the practice going?”  
  
“The clinic?” Takemi smiled. “That’s fine.”  
  
“And how are you otherwise?”  
  
“Good.” Takemi clicked her tongue. “Waiting for the apparently-real boyfriend to show up.”  
  
Ren glanced over. “Yuuki’s?”  
  
“Yeah. He’s got a boyfriend.”  
  
“I heard.” Goro smiled. “Good for Mishima. It was news to me.”  
  
Another voice said in a song, “Me too~”  
  
Ren looked over his shoulder. “Futaba.” He stood up, and paused.  
  
Futaba still had her winter coat on, snow dusting the fur hoodie as well as her own hair. She opened her arms as Ren moved in for a hug.  
  
Ren glanced over. “Um.”  
  
“Where,” came the voice of the unknown man, “Should I put my coat, Futaba?”  
  
Wakaba stepped closer. “Oh. Who’s this?” She smiled. “Are you…?”  
  
“Well.” Futaba smiled wide. “I felt a bit embarrassed to say anything, after Mishima announced _his_ boyfriend was coming… didn’t want to steal his thunder and all, but uh.” She blushed a bit and glanced over.  
  
“I am Yusuke Kitagawa. I am her boyfriend.” He lowered his head politely. “I had asked Futaba to give you all notice… but it seems she has not. I hope it is acceptable if I join you for this Christmas.”  
  
“Of course!” Sojiro came over. “Let me grab your coat.”  
  
“Even better!” Wakaba threw her hands in the air. “The theme for this Christmas is ‘Love and Romance’!”  
  
“Ah, I have never been to a spooky Christmas before.” Yusuke nodded. “Terrifying.”  
  
Sojiro came back from putting away the coat and said, “Let’s grab another chair. Come, sit.”  
  
Ren watched as Futaba took the seat next to him, and Yusuke the seat next to her. It put Yusuke directly next to Sojiro, but he didn’t mind.  
  
“Yusuke, dear,” Wakaba said with a smile. “Can I get you a glass of tea? Coffee? Wine?”  
  
“Waka’.” Takemi leaned back in her chair. “It’s a bit early for wine.”  
  
“Let’s start with the wine,” Wakaba shot back and turned to grab a bottle. “I have a fine red!”  
  
“Well.” Takemi shrugged. “Might as well get the appies on the table. Need help, Sojiro?”  
  
“No, I got it.” Sojiro stood up as well.  
  
Ren glanced at Futaba. “You’re dating someone? You didn’t say.”  
  
Futaba grabbed the glass of wine Wakaba offered. “You didn’t ask.” She took a sip.  
  
Ren stared at her.  
  
Goro mumbled, “She’s got you there.”  
  
Ren glanced at him.  
  
Goro shrugged. “I mean, I’m just saying…”  
  
“Interesting, Sweetpump,” Yusuke said to Futaba, “I thought you told me these two got along well. I assume this is Amamiya and Akechi, though.”  
  
“They do get along well, Honey-Snookums.” Futaba nuzzled his shoulder, big grin on her face. “I guess just not today…”  
  
Ren shot them a look. “We’re fine.”  
  
Wakaba gave him a glass of wine. “Just fine!”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Mishima wiped his mouth and sighed as they walked to the house just down the block. “Maybe you’re right… maybe I shouldn’t get drunk and ruin everything.”  
  
Ryuji gave a sigh of relief, in more ways than one. “Yeah. Let’s make it a good Christmas. Christmas is about family and all that.”  
  
“Families are nightmares.”  
  
“Nah…” Ryuji smiled. “You know it’s easy to demonise people in your head. They’ll be better in person.”  
  
Mishima pulled Ryuji towards the house. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”  
  
“Oof.” Ryuji irked. “Big house… talk about money.”  
  
“Yeah.” Mishima walked down the steps and came closer to the door. He opened it without knocking and tapped his shoes on the doormat to get the snow off. He ducked inside and took off his hat and mittens.  
  
Ryuji followed his lead. “Do we uh,” he whispered, “Say something or…?”  
  
“Soon.” Mishima took off his coat and hung it, then hung Ryuji’s as well. He grabbed Ryuji’s scarf, but paused. He looked up and bit his lip. “Is it too late to just go home…?”  
  
Ryuji pulled off his scarf and then leaned forward to kiss Mishima’s cheek. “It’ll be fine.” He cupped Mishima’s face. “I want to meet your family… just hope they like me.”  
  
“They will.” Mishima sighed. “I just…”  
  
Ryuji tipped up his chin and gave a brief kiss. “Come on…”  
  
“Ryuji,” Mishima whined, “I love you.”  
  
“I know. Now, let’s go.”  
  
Mishima took his hand and pulled him along, down the steps that curved. They passed the living room, towards the dining room. Everyone was absorbed in some conversation or another, but Mishima couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, smiling, but. “Oh.”  
  
They all turned to him.  
  
Mishima stared. “You ate all the cheese puffs without me. Again.”  
  
Takemi looked over her shoulder. “Oh come off it,” she teased, “Don’t be a baby again.”  
  
“But.” Mishima stared. “They’re my favourite…”  
  
Wakaba appeared with a glass of red. “Wine?”  
  
Mishima snatched it out of her hands and took a big sip.  
  
Ryuji paled next to him.  
  
“Don’t be a whiny baby all the time,” Takemi went on. “Just have fun. Come on. Make some introductions.” She stood up and crossed her arms, looking Ryuji up and down twice.  
  
“I’m…” Mishima whispered, “Not a whiny baby…”  
  
Ren eyed Ryuji in particular, as did Futaba.  
  
Oh, the judgement would begin soon.  
  
“This is Ryuji,” Mishima explained, motioning to him.  
  
Ryuji gave an awkward wave.  
  
“This is my mom,” Mishima said as he motioned to her, “That’s Ren, and that over there is Futaba.”  
  
“Damn, Mishima.” Futaba gave a confused squint. “He’s hot. How did you score that?”  
  
Ryuji blinked. “Uhhh…”  
  
“Oh my god!” Futaba put a hand over her mouth. “You didn’t pay him to come, did you? He’s not an escort, is he?”  
  
Mishima gasped. “N-No! He’s a real boy! A real boyfriend, I promise!”  
  
Ryuji just blinked, again.  
  
“A-Anyway,” Mishima went on, “Enough with introductions. I’m hungry… is there food?”  
  
“Nah.” Futaba chuckled. “We just stuffed our faces with those cheese puffs.”  
  
Takemi smiled. “They’re my specialty.”  
  
“Too bad my boyfriend couldn’t have any!” Mishima aggressively swirled the red wine in his glass. “Even though I told you he’d be here…”  
  
“If.” Ren shrugged. “He’s real.”  
  
Goro smacked his arm.  
  
Ryuji scowled. “Okay… I think that’s enough.”  
  
Futaba raised her arms defensively. “Listen, it’s not personal, Ryuji… it’s just, you know. Mishima’s pulled a few stunts—so, you know!”  
  
Ryuji narrowed his eyes.  
  
“I’m just saying!” Futaba raised her arms higher. “We can’t all have perfect relationships like Ren does.”  
  
Goro said nothing.  
  
Ren nothing either.  
  
“Of course we can!” Wakaba announced as she came in with another wine glass. “Here you go Ryuji—and welcome. Ignore Futaba, she has no manners.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll say.”  
  
Wakaba blinked.  
  
“Look, if you weren’t Yuuki’s sis, Futaba, I would throw you out.” Ryuji took the wine glass from Wakaba. “I don’t care if this isn’t my house.”  
  
Futaba’s jaw twitched.  
  
Mishima grabbed him. “Ry-Ryuji!”  
  
“Talk shit about him again,” Ryuji said with a dead eyes, “I fucking dare you.”  
  
The unintroduced man cleared his throat, “Excuse me…”  
  
Ryuji glared. “Who’s this?”  
  
“That’s,” Mishima began, “A-Actually I don’t know.”  
  
“Yusuke Kitagawa, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  
  
Mishima stared at him. “Hello.”  
  
“Hello.” Yusuke dipped his head politely. “I am Futaba’s boyfriend. Personally, I am not that invested in this conversation, as I think Futaba deserves those threats, however… let’s all have Christmas together, shall we?”  
  
Ryuji sighed. “Fine.”  
  
Futaba rolled her eyes. “Fine.”  
  
Mishima yanked Ryuji and took a seat next to Goro.  
  
Goro offered him an apologetic look. “He is hot though.”  
  
“You,” Mishima kept his voice to a whisper, “Should see him with his shirt off.”  
  
Goro waggled his eyebrows.  
  
Mishima chuckled.  
  
Ryuji glanced at him. “What did I miss?”  
  
“Nothing.” He took Ryuji’s hands and put them in his lap. “Thanks for being here…”  
  
“Come on.” Ryuji smiled. “Let’s just have fun… and slow down on your drinking.”  
  
“Yeah.” Mishima grabbed his glass and took another gulp. “Maybe.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
If nothing else, the food was fantastic. Ren loved to cook himself, Goro wasn’t bad either, but Sojiro’s cooking—spice mixes mixed by Wakaba—felt like home in a way Ren hadn’t quite developed. Sojiro’s turkey was moist and burst with the flavour of herbs and white pepper. The gravy on top finished the meal. The potatoes were fluffy, while the veggies still had a crunch despite being roasted to soft.  
  
And that was just a taste of what was to come.  
  
Ren was jealous in a way. Sojiro and Wakaba had their perfect duo going on. Twenty years. Sojiro would cook, while Wakaba finished with her desserts to come. Ren was leaving room for that. They were a perfect couple, without problems.  
  
Ren glanced at Goro, hoping one day they too could be fine, just fine, like Sojiro and Wakaba.  
  
Yet, as they finished the last bits of their meal, conversation animated, Ren’s eyes caught something else.  
  
He used his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Yuuki.” He put the napkin down. “You’re drinking a lot…”  
  
“I work in clubs now,” Mishima said as he sipped his fourth glass. “Takes a lot to get me drunk.”  
  
“While that’s true, Babe,” Ryuji slipped into the conversation, “You are also drinking a lot!”  
  
“Clubs?” Yusuke tilted his head. “What kind of clubs do you work for? I ran an art club in high school.”  
  
Mishima burst into giggles.  
  
“Well.” Wakaba began grabbing the plates, along with Sojiro. “Is everyone ready for dessert?”  
  
Futaba had just begun saying, “Well if we could wait—”  
  
Wakaba dropped a plate of rich vanilla cake slice, on its side, with chocolate sauce drizzle. “Here you go!”  
  
Ren blinked. “Wow, you went out all year.”  
  
Wakaba brought a few more plates. “Thank you.”  
  
“Ryuji.” Mishima looked at him, eyes hazy. “Remember when we got to drink those shots of tequila worth a few hundred each?”  
  
“Oh yeah.” Ryuji smiled. “Went down like water.”  
  
“What?” Futaba gawked. “Who would pay that much tequila?”  
  
“We didn’t pay.” Mishima waved his finger without coordination at her. “It was a. Big deal. We were celebrating… closed a big deal.”  
  
“Okay.” Futaba rolled her eyes. “Hot shot accountant over here… So, Ryuji, what do you do in this business? Are you also in the accounting department?”  
  
“Accounting? Me?” Ryuji chuckled. “No, I do entertainment. I’m one of their exotic dancers.”  
  
Wakaba clattered a plate in front of him. “I’m sorry?”  
  
“Like a stripper,” Mishima explained, “Without stripping.”  
  
“Unless you pay a premium,” Ryuji added.  
  
“So.” Yusuke stared at him. “A stripper.”  
  
Goro looked beyond them and whispered, “Good God.”  
  
Ren glanced over. “What? Don’t be judgementa—”  
  
“Not that.” Goro stared. “There’s more cakes.”  
  
“Wakaba!” Takemi reeled back. “We don’t need two cakes!”  
  
“Yes we do!” Wakaba put a second cake, whole, down on the table. “There’s never enough!”  
  
Sojiro sighed. “You made two cakes? But the other one is huge! When did you make this cake anyway?”  
  
“I did a lot of things, Sojiro!” Wakaba waved her arms at the kitchen. “There are other things in the fridge besides yogurt!”  
  
Sojiro threw his arms up in the air.  
  
“Don’t you…” Yusuke focused on Ryuji. “Want a more decent form of income?”  
  
“Hey now.” Futaba tapped his arm. “It’s honest work.”  
  
“Perhaps, yes.” Yusuke stiffened. “But are there not forms of more honest work you could do?”  
  
“What the fuck?” Futaba sat up and stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re like, a close-minded guy? I don’t want to date that!”  
  
Yusuke put a hand to his chest. “How dare! And you think there is no moral consequence to stripping for money?”  
  
“Good God,” Goro whispered again.  
  
Ren turned his head and suddenly stood up. “Mom. What are you doing?”  
  
“Desserts!” Wakaba put down a third and fourth cake on the table.  
  
“Wakaba,” Goro said as politely as he could, “This could feed an entire family. A classroom.”  
  
Wakaba dipped her head. “Thank you.” She called from the kitchen, “Wine!?”  
  
“Here!” Mishima threw his hand up in the air, eyes closed as he swayed.  
  
Ren bit his lip. “Mom, I think he’s had enough.”  
  
Mishima downed the rest of his glass. “Fucking cheese puffs… just wanted… one…”  
  
“Hey now,” Ryuji said as he waved his arms, “All I’m saying is there’s no harm in what I do. I don’t _sleep_ with my customers.”  
  
“Oh.” Yusuke considered it. His eyes narrowed. “Never?”  
  
“Well…”  
  
Yusuke gasped.  
  
Futaba smacked his arm. “I’m sure it just, you know, happens. It’s not like they’re paying for just that.”  
  
“One guy did,” Ryuji admitted, “But not the other one – that was my idea.”  
  
“Was the first or second one my brother?” Futaba stared at him. “Oh my god, it was the first one wasn’t it?”  
  
“No! He didn’t pay me!”  
  
“He’s desperate. Just saying!”  
  
“No way!” Ryuji pouted. “He’s actually really cute—”  
  
“This is ridiculous!” Yusuke moved his chair back. “You are describing prostitution, and that is illegal.”  
  
“Hey!” Ryuji scowled. “That’s honest work too, you know!”  
  
“Yeah.” Futaba frowned. “Now you’re shaming, Yusuke. Stop that!”  
  
“Wakaba!” Sojiro shouted, “Stop! No more cakes!”  
  
“Yeah!” Ryuji shrugged. “So what if I fucked a client?”  
  
“There’s not enough cakes!” Wakaba yelled, “Never enough cakes!”  
  
“Such a thing it’s.” Yusuke paled and turned away. “Immoral!”  
  
“Wakaba!” Takemi yelled, “No! No more!”  
  
“Yusuke!” Futaba yelled, “Stop it!”  
  
Goro shot up from his seat—he stormed off to the living room and put his head in his hands.  
  
Ren quickly followed. He moved away from everything and wrapped his arms around Goro. “Hey, I’m sorry my family is like this…”  
  
Goro just sighed.  
  
Ren nuzzled him. “It’s just one night. It’s fine. It’s all fine—”  
  
“It’s! Not! Fine!”  
  
Ren backed away.  
  
“Ren.” Goro took a deep breath and turned to him. Each breath was a dagger. “I swear to God, I… I can’t fucking take this. Any of this. I can’t do it.”  
  
“We could.” Ren smiled. “We could leave?”  
  
“And go where? With you?” Goro leaned forward a bit as he stepped back, shaking his head. “That would be even worse. I would prefer being here!”  
  
“What?” Ren stared. “…Goro?”  
  
“Ren. I’m. I was… I was going to wait, but.” Goro closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. When he opened his red eyes, they stared at the floor. “It’s not working between us, it’s…”  
  
“What? Why?” Ren stepped forward. “Look. This is, just. Stress—the holidays, the wedding, it’s all a lot. It’s just stress. It’ll pass, and you’ll think clearly. We’re fine. You’re fine.”  
  
Goro squeezed his face and yelled, “I’m not fine!”  
  
Ren raised his voice, “Yes you are!”  
  
Goro took a step back.  
  
“You just!” Ren looked around the room. “You just want a cup of tea! If I can get you a cup of tea—”  
  
“Coffee!” Goro shouted, “This is a coffee household!” He reached in the vases and grabbed the coffee beans, throwing them at Ren, letting them scatter across the floor, clicking noises as they hit the hardwood floor. “Your dad owned a fucking coffee shop—nobody wants your fucking tea! You don’t even want your shitty fucking tea!”  
  
“Wakaba!” Takemi’s voice hit a crescendo from the background, “No more cakes!”  
  
“Yusuke!” Futaba roared, “You judgemental piece of shit! Let him be a whore if he wants!”  
  
“Hell yeah, Futaba!”  
  
“You!” Yusuke gasped. “How dare you fist bump in front of me!”  
  
“Goro.” Ren had tears in his eyes as he struggled to breathe. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine! We’re happy, Goro. Do you understand?—We’re happy, damnit!”  
  
“Ren…” Goro stepped back. “Listen to yourself, just listen—”  
  
A giggle cut them off.  
  
They both turned.  
  
Mishima, laying on the couch, on his back, with his head closest to them, watched them with a big smile, drunken starry eyes glistening. “Perfect Ren… with his perfect romance… it was all a lie.” Mishima laughed. “You’re unhappy…” He threw his hands up in celebration. “Just like the rest of us!”  
  
Takemi screeched, “Wakaba!”  
  
“As long as people have food,” Wakaba yelled, “Then they’re happy! They’re just fine!”  
  
“Yeah!” Ren stared at Goro. “We’re just fine!”  
  
“Ren!” Goro glared. “We’re not fine! I’m breaking up with you. Do you hear me? I’m _breaking up with you!_ I’m done! Nothing is fine! We’re over!”  
  
“No!” Wakaba yelled from across the room, pointing at Goro. “Love and Romance! Love and Romance! You two must go on! Everyone’s relationship must go on!”  
  
“I am not interested,” Yusuke said as he stood up.  
  
“How dare you!” Wakaba turned to him. “You’re dating Futaba!”  
  
“She found me at Shitty Chicken!” Yusuke dusted himself off. “I am tired of all of you. So what if I am close-minded?—Let me be close-minded. I don’t want to talk about strippers—”  
  
“—Exotic dancers!—”  
  
“—and deal with the lot of you.” He huffed. “I am leaving. And you, Madam, are fucking crazy. Nobody wants any of these cakes!”  
  
Wakaba’s eyes became bloodshot. “Excuse me!?”  
  
“I mean…” Takemi sighed. “Yusuke kind of has a point…”  
  
Wakaba shot her a glare. “And you? You’re the one who can’t find a man!”  
  
“Actually, Sis, I am _happily_ in a relationship.”  
  
“Oh yeah, Mom?” Mishima pulled himself up and hiccupped. “What’s his name? Is he _real!?”_  
  
“She’s a woman, actually.” Takemi tugged her sleeve. “Who is stuck working now.”  
  
“Ohhhhhh.” Mishima threw his arms up. “Suuuuuuuuure.”  
  
“Good for you.” Wakaba scoffed. “But I bet you’re just angry she’s not here. Some relationship that is, that she’s stuck working.”  
  
“Of course I’m angry, but not with her, she’s chief of police—hey!” Takemi scoffed back. “Don’t change the subject. Can you just quit it!? You’re the one that’s not fooling anyone.”  
  
Wakaba smacked her hand against her palm in rhythm as she yelled, “Love! And! Romance! Love! And! Romance!”  
  
“Mom!” Futaba stood up. “You’ve gone fucking crazy!”  
  
“Hm.” Yusuke glanced away. “Explains where you get it from!”  
  
Futaba yanked his arm. “Excuse me!?”  
  
“You’re just as crazy!” Yusuke pulled his arm back. “I can’t stand you!”  
  
“Hm.” Mishima grabbed another glass of wine, not knowing whose it was. “Fuck all y’all…”  
  
“B-Babe!” Ryuji ran over, taking the glass away. “I think you gotta stop drinking, okay!?”  
  
“No!” Mishima reached for the glass. “I’m fine! You don’t give a fuck about me anyway…”  
  
Ryuji blinked. “What the fuck?”  
  
“Good God.” Goro breathed in carefully, tears in his eyes as he put his hands on his temples. “I can’t take this! Ren, I’m—”  
  
“Wait!” Ren turned to him, grabbing his sweater. “What do you mean we’re breaking up!?”  
  
“We’re breaking up!” Goro yelled, “We’re breaking up! I’m not happy with you!”  
  
“You must be!” Wakaba roared, “You two are getting married! That’s an order!”  
  
Sojiro yelled, “Wakaba! You’re the one who filed for a divorce!”  
  
Wakaba paused.  
  
Ren turned his head.  
  
Takemi’s jaw shut.  
  
Futaba looked between Sojiro and Wakaba, back and forth.  
  
Wakaba felt everyone’s eyes on her and looked around. She was about to say something, but paused. Her eyes fell on Sojiro. “You’re…”  
  
Sojiro was by the fridge, staring at her.  
  
“You’re eating yogurt.”  
  
Sojiro looked at the spoon that was midway into his yogurt cup.  
  
“All this…” Wakaba motioned to the table. “All this fucking food, all this cake, and you’re eating yogurt? I even used the lactose-free milk, and you’re still eating yogurt!?” Wakaba glared from across the island counter at him. “Stop eating yogurt. Stop eating yogurt! Stop! Eating! Yogurt!” She lunged across the island counter, sending plates and cups shattering upon the floor as her hands were claws that yanked at him, “STOP EATING YOGURT!”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
The snow outside picked up in a swirl, roaring into the night.  
  
Ryuji sat on the soft bed. The stillness of the night was… comforting. He sighed. He looked around Mishima’s childhood bedroom, happy to be away from… well… everything, downstairs. He looked at Mishima. “Hey…”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
Ryuji blinked. “Yuuki?”  
  
“I’m just…” Mishima laughed, still swaying. His starry eyes swirled with hate and pain at Ryuji. “I know I’m just… an easy lay for you… That’s all I am. You don’t… you don’t love me.”  
  
Ryuji’s eyebrows knit together, before they softened. “Yuuki… what are you saying?”  
  
“You.” Mishima scooted a bit closer. “You never said it… Not once. A whole year… A month into our relationship I was saying it. I was like a puppy, saying ‘I love you’, ‘I love you’, ‘I love you’, over and over… and you?”  
  
Ryuji froze.  
  
“Not once.” Mishima chuckled. “Not once…” He put a hand on Ryuji’s face. “You’re a liar…”  
  
Ryuji swallowed hard.  
  
“You don’t love me.”  
  
“Wait—”  
  
“Say it!” Mishima glared. “Say it, right now… or I’m leaving…”  
  
Ryuji opened his mouth, but—  
  
Mishima scoffed.  
  
The seconds ticked away.  
  
“Fuck you.” Mishima stood up. He grabbed the pillow he was hugging and threw it at Ryuji before stumbling his way down the stairs.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“Yusuke.” Futaba stood at the front steps to the house, ignoring the snowfall. “Get the fuck out of here.”  
  
“Very well.” Yusuke gave a sweeping bow. “I’m glad I could be the equivalent of an ornament, a decoration to your family that you don’t care about.”  
  
“Maybe you can fucking take one from our tree!”  
  
Yusuke held up a gold globe. “I already did.”  
  
“Great!” Futaba swung her arms and then motioned to the steps. “Then out you fucking go!”  
  
“Then.” Yusuke turned heel. “Out I fucking go.” He marched.  
  
Futaba watched him go. “Close-minded asshole…”  
  
From behind her, “Futaba…”  
  
Futaba glanced over.  
  
Sojiro stared. “Honey…”  
  
“Fuck you too.” Futaba put her hands on her head. “If you and mom didn’t always look at me like I was a fucking failure, maybe I wouldn’t have had to do this, huh?”  
  
Sojiro’s eyes softened. “Futaba… I never looked at you like that.”  
  
Futaba stormed off, charging into the house only to leave by the backdoor—she wanted to leave, but she wanted to avoid Yusuke more.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Goro moved carefully, picking up the sharp shards of glass and porcelain. He gathered them in a bag, all the broken cups, the broken plates.  
  
“Goro—”  
  
“Nope.” Goro continued to work.  
  
“Goro,” Ren said again. “Please…”  
  
“These pieces are sharp, dangerous.” Goro continued finding small pieces. “I’m almost done, but just let me clean. Go talk to your mom.”  
  
“She.” Ren’s sigh hurt, laced with all kinds of storms. “She won’t talk to me either…”  
  
“Then vacuum.” Goro stood up. “I took all the big pieces. Vacuum should get the rest.” He hooked the plastic bag to one of the kitchen knobs. “I’m going.”  
  
“Please.” Ren stepped in front of him. “Talk to me…”  
  
“Why, Ren?” Goro looked into those eyes—those dark grey eyes. Soft, gentle, eyes that he had fallen in love with ten years ago. “You’re not happy.” Goro cupped that face, that gorgeous face. “You’re not happy with me. I’ve tried everything, for months and months… Why cheat myself out of happiness and be with you?”  
  
Ren took a deep breath. “What are you saying?”  
  
“You need to wake up.” Goro kissed his forehead. “Or losing me will be just the start. You’re so out of touch with what’s really going on, and you won’t listen to me when I try to help. I don’t know what else to do.”  
  
“I…”  
  
“It’s like, you’re so dead inside you don’t even see it.”  
  
Ren’s eyes widened.  
  
“I’m just.” Goro smiled. “I’m done. I’m burned out. I’m tired… I wanted to be your partner, for life. _Partner,_ Ren. You’ve shut me out for months… and I don’t want this anymore… so… have a good Christmas, Ren.”  
  
“Have a good…” Ren’s eyes fell. “Christmas, Goro…”  
  
Goro couldn’t help kissing the corner of his mouth just one more time before he grabbed his coat and left.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren eventually left home, too. He didn’t know where he was going, or why. All he knew was that he’d fucked up, maybe? He didn’t get it… but he knew a part of him didn’t want to get it. A part of him didn’t want to know why, didn’t want to understand. All he could think about was that he was fine, and everything was fine.  
  
Except it wasn’t.  
  
Ren followed his feet, and paused.  
  
Where the residential area hit the commercial area, a coffee shop with a flickering sign called to him.  
  
Mission Three.  
  
Ren stared at it.  
  
“We used to think it was cool…”  
  
Ren glanced behind him.  
  
“This cafe.” Futaba looked up at the sign. “I mean.”  
  
Ren stared at her for a moment, but eventually glanced up.  
  
Mission Three, it was written in neon pink lights, flickering yellow around it.  
  
Ren sighed.  
  
Futaba did too. “Ren… when did—”  
  
A lurching sound.  
  
They both blinked and ran around the cafe.  
  
Futaba ran over. “Mishima!?”  
  
“Yuuki!” Ren grabbed him.  
  
Mishima wiped his mouth. “Drank…” He coughed. “Way too much…”  
  
“Did you.” Futaba put a hand over her face. “Well at least it’s out now.”  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
Ren pulled him up. “Come on, let’s… get you a glass of water or something.  
  
Mishima nodded.  
  
The three of them stepped into Mission Three, grabbing a small booth to the side. Futaba ordered a hot chocolate, while Ren ordered a green tea. They both ordered just hot water for Mishima, arguing with him how the acidity of coffee after throwing up probably wasn’t the best.  
  
Ren leaned back in his booth, looking at the teabag of green tea in his mug. “Some Christmas this is…”  
  
Mishima, head and arms on the table, looked up at him. “How do you do it, Ren…?”  
  
Ren blinked.  
  
Futaba, sitting next to Mishima, blew on her hot chocolate.  
  
Mishima looked at him. “How do you make people love you for who you are…?”  
  
“Yeah.” Futaba chuckled, not looking away from her drink. “Tell us your secrets.”  
  
“You two didn’t hear anything?” Ren scoffed. “He… broke up with me.”  
  
“Miserable…” Mishima whined, “Just like us, huh?”  
  
Futaba huffed, closing her eyes. “I’m jealous of you, Ren.”  
  
Ren took a deep breath. He grabbed the teabag by the string and put it on the small plate next to him. “I have nothing to be envious about.”  
  
Mishima made another noise. “Can you fucking stop that…?”  
  
Ren looked at him. “Stop what?”  
  
Futaba glanced up. “Anytime we try to tell you how we feel, you shoot us down. I get it! It’s not nice to have people jealous of you, especially if you feel like you fucked up… but, God, I’m still jealous, okay…?” She leaned forward and looked at him. “I’m sorry, this is going to be insensitive: But I don’t care if Goro left you, I’m still jealous of what you had. You had years together. So what if the spark died…? You can revive it. At least there _was_ a spark.”  
  
Mishima huffed against the table. “Maybe he does the same thing to Goro, just invalidates everything all the time.”  
  
Ren began, “I don’t—”  
  
They both shot him a look.  
  
Ren leaned back in his seat.  
  
Mishima sat up. “How’s the hot chocolate?”  
  
Futaba took another sip. “Garbage.”  
  
Mishima chuckled. He rested his head on one hand. “Do you remember…? We thought this place was so cool… only because we weren’t allowed to come in here.”  
  
“Sojiro said it was a shitty cafe.” Futaba sipped her drink again. “We thought he was jealous.”  
  
“Mm.” Ren snorted as he grabbed his tea. “He was completely right.”  
  
Futaba laughed, Mishima too.  
  
Ren smiled, but the smile fell. “Fuck Christmas.”  
  
“Yeah. Fuck Christmas,” Futaba whined. “How did I meet such a jerk anyway…?”  
  
Ren blinked at her.  
  
“Fuck Christmas.” Mishima sat up. “He didn’t even love me… that fucker.”  
  
Futaba turned to him. “Shut the hell up.”  
  
Mishima blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“Yuuki.” Ren stared at him. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”  
  
“No.” Mishima shook his head. “He didn’t. I guess I got unlucky.”  
  
“Me too.” Futaba sunk back. “Stupid Yusuke…”  
  
Ren stared at them, feeling his fingers twitch. He took a deep, cautious breath, but the pot of boiling water began to boil over. He looked at Futaba, then Mishima, then Futaba, then Mishima. “Fuck you guys!” He kicked Mishima hard under the table.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“Both of you!”  
  
“Ow!” Futaba yelled, “What the heck!?”  
  
“Yuuki.” Ren glared. “What the hell are you saying he doesn’t love you? He threatened to throw Futaba out of the house to protect you. The way he _looks_ at you…”  
  
“He doesn’t say it!” Mishima threw his arms up. “I’ve given him chances. He’s a bastard, anyway. All he wanted was sex.”  
  
“You’re an idiot.” Ren leaned forward. “He was looking after you all night. Why do you think that was?”  
  
“Well it’s obvious—”  
  
“Yuuki.” Ren almost kicked him again, but stopped. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Mishima’s arm, gently. “He hasn’t said he loves you?”  
  
Mishima shook his head.  
  
“Have you asked him why?”  
  
Mishima blinked. “What?”  
  
“You two.” He pulled away from Mishima only to point at Futaba. “You two are so obsessed with how relationships are supposed to _look,_ that you don’t care about the quality. Futaba, you only brought Yusuke along so Wakaba wouldn’t ask you if you were dating anyone.”  
  
“Well.” Futaba sank in her chair. “I mean…”  
  
“You wanted to look good. That’s all it was.” Ren frowned. “Look at—” His throat tightened. “Look at Goro and I… we looked perfect, but… apparently…” He shivered. “Look at Mom and Dad. I thought they were perfect, they _looked_ perfect, but apparently they’re unhappy as fuck. Yuuki, if Ryuji makes you happy, then ask him. He obviously cares about you… if he wants to be just friends, then that’s fine, but you won’t know that unless you fucking talk to him.”  
  
Futaba mulled it over. “He’s got a point.”  
  
Ren pointed at her again. “And you!”  
  
_“Sir,”_ one of the workers said, _“We’re going to have to ask you to keep it down.”_  
  
“What the fuck was that?” Ren asked Futaba, ignoring the worker. “What the fuck did you even do tonight?”  
  
_“Sir, this is a family establishment. You can’t be swearing like that.”_  
  
“You found a man at a chicken restaurant and made him pretend to be your boyfriend?” Ren scowled. “Why? So you could _look_ like you’re supposed to?”  
  
Futaba looked around. “Well…”  
  
“No.” Ren glared. “What about his feelings…?”  
  
“He’s a judgemental, close-minded idiot, and—”  
  
“Yeah, we all have judgements, and we all have things wrong with us, so what?” Ren slammed his mug on the table. “You threw him into the lion’s den of our family, having no idea who he was, and then you threw him out. What kind of fucking Christmas is that for him, huh!?”  
  
Futaba stared at him.  
  
_“M-Ma’am, did you really…?”_  
  
“Well.” Futaba looked at the worker and shrugged in four different ways. “I mean, yeah…”  
  
“You’re both fucked.” Ren sipped his garbage tea. “Fuck you both.”  
  
_“Sir—”_  
  
Ren stood up. “I’m leaving.”  
  
Futaba threw her head back. “And where the fuck are you going?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Ren threw his hands in the air. “This tea is disgusting! I don’t even like tea! I drink coffee!”  
  
“Well!” Mishima looked at him. “What about you, huh…? You have no idea why Goro is even leaving you. You have no idea about anything!”  
  
“Yeah!” Ren’s eyes had a shine to them from the wetness. “I have no idea. You’re right… Then I better go fucking find out.”  
  
Mishima nodded. “Yeah! You better fucking do that!”  
  
_“Sir!”_  
  
Futaba scooted out of the booth and grabbed her coat. Before Ren could, she stormed out.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“Wakaba…”  
  
“Go away…”  
  
Sojiro stood in the living room, fireplace crackling behind him. He put a hand on his hip. “I guess… I’ll go eat more yogurt?”  
  
Wakaba was sitting in a sofa chair, knees together, head in her hands, and she sighed heavily.  
  
“Wakaba…” Sojiro moved to sit on the armrest of the chair. “Talk to me.” He looked up. “No one will understand anything if you don’t communicate.”  
  
“I’m unhappy, Sojiro. That’s all it is.”  
  
“Why…?”  
  
“We’ve been married twenty years, and you can’t tell why?”  
  
“No. I can’t.”  
  
“Well.” Wakaba let out a dry laugh. “There you go.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren had no idea where he was going, again. He paced through the streets, looking. He had called Goro three times, left four texts, and didn’t know what else to do. They had a joint bank account, so he checked their accounts constantly to see if there were any taxi purchases; or, worse, flight tickets.  
  
Luckily, nothing of that kind.  
  
Ren let out a sigh and kept running around, having no leads.  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Mishima felt like a coward, walking back to his old childhood home. Tail between his legs, but… that wasn’t anything too new to him. After all, Mishima had spent years never being the person he wanted to be. But, maybe, just once… But as he approached, a sight made his stomach churn.  
  
Takemi sat on the front steps, holding a lit cigarette in one hand.  
  
Mishima stepped closer.  
  
Takemi looked up.  
  
Mishima stood.  
  
“Kid…” Takemi sighed. She straightened her back. “I’m sorry I made fun of you… for getting angry about the cheese puffs.”  
  
“They were just cheese puffs.” Mishima looked away. “I’m sorry I got so mad, Mom…”  
  
“I know you wanted me to keep some for you…” Takemi shrugged. “But it’s just, cooking-wise… it’s legit the only thing I can do, you know? I wanted that wow factor… just so I don’t feel so fucking inferior.”  
  
Mishima blinked. “What?”  
  
“You saw those cakes. You saw Sojiro’s turkey.” Takemi took a drag of her cigarette and blew it out. “I suck at making anything, like… legit, anything… Those cheese puffs are the only thing I can do.”  
  
“You only make them once a year.”  
  
“Twice, for your birthday.” Takemi offered a wink.  
  
Mishima smiled. “You could make them more often.”  
  
“Eh.” Takemi shrugged. “Then I’d just wear them out… but we argue about it every year, every Christmas.”  
  
“Yeah.” Mishima sighed. “And I get angry about it every year.”  
  
“Because you’re late, Kid.” Takemi chuckled. “You could just come early?”  
  
“Well…” Mishima looked up and meekly moved his weight from one foot to the other. “We were going to be early… but I stopped to give him head in an alley, so…”  
  
Takemi stared, then sighed. “I’m. Yeah, I have no response to that.” She took another drag of her cig. “You like him, though?”  
  
Mishima looked at her, and he felt his chest quake. “Y-Yeah, I do, Mom… so much.”  
  
“Then what’s the problem?”  
  
“Well, M-Mom, I—”  
  
“No.” Takemi pointed at him with her cigarette. “No tears. Save it for him. I don’t do tears.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“He’s still upstairs.” Takemi smirked. “I think he’s afraid of coming down because Wakaba and Sojiro are still fighting.”  
  
“Fuck.” Mishima threw his arms up and let his hands clatter on his face. “Fine, okay. Okay. Okay. I’ll go up…”  
  
“Good luck, Kid.”  
  
Mishima walked pasther, and took off his shoes. He threw his coat on the floor, not caring much about that right now, and snuck past Wakaba and Sojiro to go up the stairs.  
  
Up the stairs…  
  
Mishima felt a sense of dread.  
  
It was his own childhood room in front of him; and, yet, he felt so unwanted.  
  
No.  
  
Mishima pushed open the door, gently, and peeked in.  
  
Ryuji sat on the bed, hugging the pillow Mishima had thrown at him. He looked up and his eyes widened. “Yuuki…?”  
  
“H-Hey.” Mishima moved, almost robotically, and sat next to him. He breathed and his muscles loosened. He looked down and closed his eyes. “I…”  
  
Ryuji looked at his pillow, avoiding eye contact.  
  
“I, uh…” Mishima looked away. “I threw up, and then Ren forced me to drink water… so I’m… better.”  
  
Ryuji made a small noise.  
  
“I, um… I drank too much, and said some things, you know…?”  
  
Ryuji hugged the pillow.  
  
Mishima closed his eyes and huffed. “No.” He put his head in his hands. “I can’t blame the drinks… I was just, acting out. It wasn’t fair for me to, like… demand, you… to say I love you.”  
  
Ryuji looked at him, carefully.  
  
Mishima turned to him. “Ryuji. I really… really… really love you.” He put his hand on Ryuji’s arm. “And… I really, really… would like you to say it back to me—but if you can’t, or you don’t feel that way… that’s fine. Okay?”  
  
“Yuuki, I—” Ryuji pushed the pillow away and leaned forward. “Yuuki… I just…” He shut his eyes. “I can’t say it, it…”  
  
“That’s f-fine…” Mishima’s eyes widened, and he looked down. “Just tell me… if…”  
  
“No, it’s.” Ryuji squished his eyes shut. “It’s not. Not. It’s. It’s not just you… it’s. I can’t say it… to anyone… Even when my ma’ was still alive, I couldn’t. Not even to her…”  
  
Mishima looked up. “Ryuji…?”  
  
“My dad, he—” Ryuji stiffened. He bit his lip, avoiding eye contact. “You know how… you said you have issues? Well… me too, I guess. He said shit… He said…”  
  
“Ryuji?” Mishima cupped his face, meeting those dark brown eyes with his own.  
  
Ryuji shook once and moved forward, pulling Mishima close, nuzzling his neck. “Called me names, and shit… you know? Said, guys can’t be talking like that… Can’t say soft shit. I know it’s all bullshit, I _know_ , but whenever I try… it’s like my throat’s all clogged up, y’know? It’s. I…”  
  
“Ryuji.” Mishima kissed his temple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”  
  
“I mean.” Ryuji sighed. “I didn’t really say anything either… it’s just.” He shut his eyes, pushing his head into the crook of Mishima’s neck. “I want to say it, it’s just…”  
  
“It’s okay.” Mishima squeezed him. “You don’t have to.”  
  
“But… I don’t… I don’t want you to feel like, I don’t, y’know? Because. I do. I _do,_ I do.”  
  
Mishima’s heart leapt up, and his hands were shaking as he pulled Ryuji even closer. “I b-believe you.”  
  
“You’re.” Ryuji pulled away, only to push their foreheads together. “You’re so i-important t-to me…”  
  
“I love you, Ryuji.”  
  
“I—” Ryuji’s jaw snapped shut.  
  
“It’s okay.” Mishima kissed his cheek. “You don’t. You don’t need to. I understand.”  
  
“I w-want t-to.”  
  
“If you want to, I’ll support you, but.” Mishima stroked his cheek with his thumb. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”  
  
Ryuji took a deep breath and nodded twice.  
  
Mishima smiled. “Thank you… for telling me.”  
  
Ryuji smiled too. “I… I don’t know how to use my words, so… I like to just… be affectionate, physically… I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea…”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Mishima chuckled. “Plus, I like how affectionate you are. Physically.”  
  
“Yeah?” Ryuji raised an eyebrow, smile growing an edge. “I could give you a private show if you wanted…”  
  
“One of your… special shows?”  
  
Ryuji gently pushed him to the bed. “Oh yeah.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Goro’s steps were slow, and the cold was starting to get to him. It wasn’t so much the snow, but more the little shards of ice in his chest that were expanding. He took a deep breath of the cold air, thinking about everything that had happened. He looked up.  
  
Fuck Christmas.  
  
He didn’t have a mom, didn’t have a dad (no, the one in prison didn’t count). He had Wakaba and Sojiro… but not anymore.  
  
Alone.  
  
Goro huffed. “After all this, alone again… and it’s my own fault.” He slowly lidded his eyes. “Fuck all this…”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
“Wakaba…” Sojiro moved to sit on the armrest of the chair. “Talk to me.” He looked up. “No one will understand anything if you don’t communicate.”  
  
“I’m unhappy, Sojiro. That’s all it is.”  
  
“Why…?”  
  
“We’ve been married twenty years, and you can’t tell why?”  
  
“No. I can’t.”  
  
“Well.” Wakaba let out a dry laugh. “There you go.”  
  
“No.” Sojiro moved off the chair to face her. “Fuck that, Wakaba.”  
  
Wakaba looked up, through her fingers.  
  
“I can’t read your mind, Wakaba!” Sojiro dropped on one of the couches. “You can’t sit there and expect me to!”  
  
Wakaba looked up. “Sojiro…”  
  
“Wakaba.” He stared at her. “Tell me what’s bothering you right now.”  
  
“You.”  
  
“I got that part!”  
  
“It’s you, Sojiro!” Wakaba moved her hands away and pushed to sit on the edge of her seat. “There’s nothing in you anymore.”  
  
Sojiro blinked. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
“Ever since you retired from the coffee shop…” Wakaba sighed. “You don’t care about anything… We could get hit by a huge bill, no reaction. We can have all our kids home for the holidays, no reaction. Ren and Goro getting engaged? Nothing. That—that I can live with. But you just… coast from day to day. There’s no adventure in you anymore! Nothing! You don’t even get a _boner_ when I walk around _naked,_ Sojiro!”  
  
Sojiro’s spine straightened. “Well, that’s—”  
  
“You’re lifeless!” Wakaba exclaimed, “You’re lifeless and I have to wake up every day and see that lifeless face! I just want you to get happy about _something, angry_ about something! You’re so draining! I can’t live my life with you not giving a shit about anything! You’re a freak! You’re not the man I married!” She stood up. “I want an adventure! I want to discover something! I want to _learn_ something, like we used to! _Do_ something, like we used to! I don’t care if we’re going to another continent, or take Zumba lessons, or study something—”  
  
“Then let’s do it!” Sojiro stood up. “Let’s go learn Zumba in another continent!”  
  
“What—”  
  
“No!” Sojiro raised his voice, “If you’re tired of this, then let’s do something about it! Let’s do something else!”  
  
“It’s not that easy—”  
  
“It can be.” Sojiro rubbed his face aggressively. “You’re right… I’m so _bored,_ Wakaba, bored and _boring._ But, the thing is… If you want to divorce me, then fine, let’s get a divorce—but—if all you want is an escape from this boring life, let’s go do it. Like we used to. Just go somewhere, and don’t care.” He took her hands. “I love you, Wakaba.”  
  
“It.” Wakaba stared at him. “It doesn’t feel like it. Not anymore.”  
  
“No.” Sojiro sighed. “It doesn’t… I’m sorry…”  
  
“Well.” Wakaba frowned. “You should be.” Her frown melted away. “And I’m sorry too…”  
  
“Don’t be sorry. But, next time…” Sojiro smiled. “Just, promise me you’ll tell me what you want, what you need… otherwise… otherwise there’s nothing I can do about it. I know since I retired there’s not much kickin’ in these old bones… but I still want to make you happy. You realise that, don’t you?”  
  
Wakaba’s shoulder softened. “And I want _you_ happy…”  
  
“So, come on.” He raised one of her hands and kissed it gently. “Let’s go look up some international travel guides, with Zumba.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be Zumba dancing! It can be anything.”  
  
“No, I’m rather sold on the Zumba idea.” Sojiro grinned. “Somewhere in the desert maybe? Or beaches?”  
  
Wakaba threw her head back, laughing.  
  
“Hooboy,” Sojiro said. “It’s been a while since I heard that laugh.”  
  
“It’s been a while.” Wakaba stepped forward so they were inches away. “Since I’ve seen you smile.”  
  
Sojiro’s eyes grew misty and he whispered, “Let’s keep it that way. You laughing, me smiling…”  
  
“Yeah.” Wakaba chuckled despite the tears in her eyes. “Let’s keep it this way.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Futaba took a deep breath, looking up.  
  
Shitty Chicken.  
  
Futaba took a step forward and opened the door. She stepped in, smelling the grease, knowing it permeated the air in a way that would damage her fur coat forever. She looked around, and her eyes softened. There was only one other person eating here… not surprising since it was Christmas Eve.  
  
Yusuke looked up from his half-eaten basket.  
  
Futaba pulled a chair.  
  
“This establishment requires you to order something to loiter here.”  
  
Futaba’s jaw twitched. She took off her coat and dropped it on the chair before walking over to the counter. After ordering, and paying, she came back with a small basket of fried chicken wings. She dropped in front of Yusuke.  
  
Yusuke cleared his throat. “Futaba.”  
  
“Yusuke—”  
  
Yusuke held up a hand.  
  
Futaba bit her lip.  
  
“I want to apologise… for the comments I made around sex workers.”  
  
“Exotic dancers aren’t sex workers.” Futaba stared. “I mean, I have no idea what Ryuji really is at this point, to be honest—”  
  
“Regardless.” Yusuke lowered his hand. “I have done some research, and I wish to retract my earlier statements. I would not, however, be able to do that unless I apologised for them as well.”  
  
“Yusuke.” Futaba’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry…”  
  
Yusuke tilted his head. “Why?”  
  
Futaba blinked. “For… dragging you into this mess…?”  
  
“Mess?” Yusuke considered it. “I distinctly remember agreeing to the terms and conditions.”  
  
“But.” Futaba’s eyes softened. “I threw you out… It’s Christmas.”  
  
“And a rather good one it was.” Yusuke smiled. “My usual Christmas consists of me, alone. My ritual is me, sitting alone in my living room, eating a blueberry muffin.” He nodded. “I usually find myself staring at a wall, or the blank television. At times I try to paint, but I find my incredible isolation particularly difficult on Christmas. I also attempt to distract myself with videos or social media, but the concept that everyone else is out there, spending Christmas with someone—for good, or for not—while I am not with anyone… I usually end up feeling intolerably alone.”  
  
Futaba only stared.  
  
“So, this event.” Yusuke smiled again. “I was surrounded with people, and had many discussions. I had fine food, and I spent time with a rather aesthetically pleasing woman of my age, who has a healthy body mass-index, despite her tendencies to compare herself to her brothers… who I admit, were also aesthetically pleasing. I am bisexual, though I suppose that was not particularly on topic. Though… you are more my type than they are, tonight at least. Again, an off topic remark. Back to Christmas.”  
  
Futaba opened her mouth, then closed it. She did the same a couple of times. “So.” She cleared her throat. “You had fun…?”  
  
“Yes.” Yusuke nodded. “That was the best Christmas I have ever had. I was not sure if I could ask to be invited again next year; but, if such a thing is appropriate, I will accept the invite in whichever preferred method you use: texting, email, in person—”  
  
“Yusuke.” She grabbed his hand. “Do you… want to come back?”  
  
“I would love to come back next year.”  
  
“No.” Futaba looked at him. “Tonight.”  
  
“There.” Yusuke’s eyes lit up. “There is a part two?”  
  
“There.” Futaba laughed. “There could be!”  
  
“Then yes!” Yusuke sat up. “Would I play the role of your partner again? Or shall we change it to an ex-partner? What would you prefer?”  
  
“Holy shit.” Futaba chuckled. “You’re fucking crazy…”  
  
“Am I?”  
  
“You can play yourself, Yusuke.”  
  
“Oh.” Yusuke considered it. “So I suppose I will be simply an acquaintance?”  
  
Futaba smiled. “Yeah.”  
  
“No, that won’t do.” Yusuke shook his head. “That does not have enough flair.”  
  
“You know…” Futaba couldn’t stop the giggle from spilling from her lips. “We don’t always need flair tags.”  
  
“We could have some, though… if you would like a suggestion.”  
  
Futaba raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s your great idea this time?”  
  
“I have never been on a date before, Futaba.” Yusuke nodded seriously. “I would like this to be my first date, if you are comfortable.”  
  
Futaba grinned. “Yusuke…”  
  
“It was a yes or no question.” Yusuke stared at her. “Saying my name was not a valid response.”  
  
“What the fuck are you, a line of code?” Futaba tugged his arm. “Well then here’s this for a string: Yes.”  
  
Yusuke smiled. “Should we grab enough chicken for everyone, or…?”  
  
“No, it’s fine. It’s…” Futaba laughed. “Come on. This’ll be—seriously—the worst first date ever.”  
  
“I.” Yusuke’s lips tugged into a smirk. “Beg to differ.”  
  
“Beg away, Yusuke.”  
  
“Very well, I shall.”  
  
“Come on. Let’s go.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren continued to stalk the city, but paused. His eyes fell upon something, and his heart soared.  
  
Goro.  
  
Ren’s legs barely worked as he forced himself to walk forward.  
  
Goro was staring at something through the window, window shopping, lost in his thoughts.  
  
A keepsake, Goro had wanted. A memento.  
  
Ren grabbed his mother’s ring and slipped it off as he approached.  
  
Goro glanced over, eyes widening. “R-Ren?”  
  
“Can I do something?” Ren was breathless. “Quick?”  
  
“Do.” Goro stared. “Do what?”  
  
“Close your eyes.”  
  
Goro obeyed. He shifted from leaning on one leg to the other, lips twitching slightly.  
  
Ren realised he was expecting a kiss—and secretly thought that was a good idea—but instead he reached for Goro’s necklace and unclipped it for only a second.  
  
Goro felt a shift in weight, and opened his eyes.  
  
Ren clipped the silver chain back together. “My mom’s ring.” His hands followed the chain to the ring that was now looped in it. “I want you to have it. A memento… of me.” His cheeks burned. “Even… even if we break up—which I don’t want us to—I want you to have it. Forever.”  
  
Goro stared down. “I can’t.” He looked up. “Ren I can’t accept this—”  
  
“You can.” Ren kissed him quickly. “You have—” He paused. “I mean…” He stepped back. “I…” Ren looked up, sheepishly. “Do I… invalidate… you?”  
  
Goro stared.  
  
“Do I… pretend everything’s alright, when… it’s not?” Ren’s chest was tightening, constricting. “Am I… unsupportive?”  
  
“Ren, I…” Goro blinked. His hand reached up to grab the ring, thumb stroking the smooth surface. “I mean… yes.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Ren—”  
  
Ren took a step back.  
  
“Ren, wait.” Goro took a step forward. “I get it, okay…? I get it… You’re trying to help. You are. But… it’s not helping. You’re… I don’t know if you’re overwhelmed, or if you’re trying to make it easy for me… but it’s like you just. Shut down. I want to talk about it… I want to talk about us… us being sad, us being unhappy… us not working… I don’t want you to change the topic to good things, talking about the brighter side. I mean, yeah, you have to acknowledge the good too… but, sometimes, Ren… it’s okay to just be sad.”  
  
Ren breathed through his nose.  
  
“Sometimes, I just want to be sad…” Goro looked away. “Not always, not often… But it’s like, I’m not allowed to be sad. As if it’s not okay, or wrong in some way…”  
  
“I…” Ren shivered. “I was… They say engagement is supposed to be the happiest time, and I just… I want us to work. I want us to be happy.”  
  
“I know,” Goro assured. “I know it comes from a good place…”  
  
Ren took in a shaky breath.  
  
“Ten years.” Goro stepped forward, grabbing Ren’s scarf and pulling him close. “Ten years we’ve been together, since high school. Of course we work together…”  
  
“But—”  
  
“But.” Goro stared into his dark grey eyes. “But we also grow, and change… I want us to grow together, not grow apart… and that means we have to talk about what’s not working—or else we can’t address it, or work on it.”  
  
“I…” Ren shut his eyes. “I was obsessed… with how we were supposed to look.”  
  
“Yeah.” Goro lowered his head. “And you were obsessed with saving me.”  
  
Ren stiffened, opening his eyes.  
  
“You wanted to be my white knight… my knight in shining armor… save me from my unhappiness. Saving me from everything…” His eyes flicked at Ren. “I don’t want a knight.” He leaned in. “And you’re far more of a cunning rogue than any knight in armour.”  
  
Ren blushed. “Goro… I had no idea… I was…”  
  
“It’s not like this has been forever.” Goro offered a smile. “You’ve supported me so much, for so long… You are my other half. I know you can be that person… I just didn’t know how to tell you that you were… well, changing.”  
  
Ren nodded. “I didn’t exactly… let you talk about it, either… I want us, to be happy. Together.”  
  
“We can be.”  
  
Ren’s heart leapt up. “Yeah…?”  
  
“We’ve been before, right?” Goro smiled. “Then we can, again. We just have to find that old rhythm, and grow alongside it.”  
  
Ren nodded.  
  
“So, your mom’s ring—”  
  
“Keep it.”  
  
Goro blinked. “Ren, I can’t… It’s your only connection to her…”  
  
“I… want you to have it.” Ren’s eyes softened. Goro’s red eyes were so gentle. The first time Ren had seen them, they’d scared him, but now all he could think about was how much gentleness they held. “I want you to have something of me… of us. I want you to have a keepsake, of everything… a memento, of all the things that went wrong, and all the things that went right…”  
  
Goro leaned in, pressing their lips together.  
  
Ren slipped an arm around Goro’s waist, pulling him in close. He moved his lips slowly, smiling into the kiss.  
  
Goro pulled away. “W-Well. Guess we better head back…”  
  
“Hm.” Ren smiled. “You’re cold. Want me to make you coffee?”  
  
“Not tea?”  
  
“I have no idea how to make tea.”  
  
Goro laughed. “Then yes, coffee… we’re going to need it too, no?”  
  
“Hm? Why’s that?”  
  
“Gotta have something to wash down all those cakes…”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Takemi continued to sit on the steps, despite the cold. She had finished her cigarette, tapping it so the ash flew, and then smushed it into the snow. She sighed, moving her hair out of her eyes. She heard the sound of rolling tires and looked up.  
  
A police car?  
  
“Oh God,” she whispered, “What n—”  
  
But the door opened, and someone stepped out.  
  
Takemi rose from her seat.  
  
An officer, in uniform still, walked towards her.  
  
“Am I under arrest?” Takemi smirked. “Should I put my hands where you can hold them?”  
  
“Oh shut up.”  
  
Takemi whispered, “Sae.”  
  
Sae Niijima ran her hand through her hair. “I’m not too late, am I…?”  
  
“Not at all.” Takemi let Sae slip an arm around her, and she smiled. “I think you’re just in time.”  
  
“Hm?” Sae eyed her carefully. “What exactly did I miss?”  
  
“Well.” Takemi smirked. “Let me start from the beginning…”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
Ren stepped in, expecting a significantly fewer amount of boots, and coats, but paused. He looked at Goro, who looked at him, just as confused. They both shrugged and closed the door behind them. Soon enough, they went down the few steps and walked into the living room.  
  
Goro leaned in, and, quietly, “What the fuck?”  
  
Ren whispered back, “I have no idea.”  
  
Wakaba was laughing as she threw her head back on Sojiro’s shoulder, while Mishima was animatedly talking to Futaba about something, and Yusuke—wait, Yusuke?—was nodding along. Ryuji was serving another slice of cake to Takemi, and—  
  
“Sae,” Goro said suddenly.  
  
Sae turned to him. “Goro.”  
  
Ren blinked.  
  
Takemi glanced over. “You know each other?”  
  
Goro nodded. “She was my mentor, in my early days.”  
  
“Yes.” Sae looked at Ren. “And he was that boy you were making out with instead of doing your work.”  
  
Futaba snorted.  
  
Ren blushed. “What… exactly is happening?”  
  
“I’m.” Wakaba stood. “Not sure. But… I’m… I’m sorry about before.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Goro assured. “Are you… okay?”  
  
“Yes.” Wakaba looked at Sojiro, and took a seat next to him before looking back at Goro. “I think so. Yes.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sojiro smiled. “We’ll be okay.”  
  
“So.” Sae looked at Goro. “You two are still together?”  
  
“Engaged,” Goro said with a smile. “He’s my fiancé.”  
  
“Wait.” Futaba tilted her head. “You guys are still together? I thought you two, you know… broke up…?”  
  
“Futaba.” Ren stared directly at Yusuke as he spoke to her, “You’re one to talk.”  
  
“Oh.” Futaba took his hand and smiled at Yusuke. “This is our first date!”  
  
Ryuji nodded. “Weird, huh?”  
  
“Ah, Ryuji.” Yusuke cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologise for my earlier comments.”  
  
Ryuji blinked. “Huh?”  
  
Mishima looked over. “Did I miss something earlier…?”  
  
“Well.” Yusuke cleared his throat, again. “I looked up both sex work and dancers, and it seems my comments were a product of a judgemental society, which devalues certain fields based on moral quandaries that I do not agree with. Instead I would like to grow as a person and learn more from those whose experiences are often kept in the dark.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Ryuji smiled and nodded. “I understood, like, two of those words, but thank you?”  
  
“Thank you, Yusuke.” Mishima dipped his head. He pulled Ryuji closer and kissed him.  
  
Sae turned to Takemi. “What?”  
  
“My son,” Takemi explained, “Is dating an exotic dancer.”  
  
“Oh.” Sae blinked. “Well.”  
  
“He’s.” Mishima blushed as he smiled. “Very good at his job…”  
  
“Yes.” Wakaba coughed. “We heard you. Upstairs.”  
  
Mishima blushed.  
  
Ryuji smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”  
  
“What you do,” Takemi murmured, “Is apparently Yuuki.”  
  
Sae chuckled. “Quite the family you have, Tae.”  
  
“Mhm.” She winked. “Want more cake?—Seriously, there’s too much.”  
  
“We need some coffee to go with this cake,” Sojiro said as he stood up. “Shall I make some? Ren, do you want to help?”  
  
“Yeah.” Ren looked at Goro. “I’ll make you the best cup.”  
  
“Please.” Goro smirked. “You’re probably rusty as hell.”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
  
  


⁂

  
  
  
  
As the hours passed, Ren found himself sitting in the sofa chair, legs thrown over the armrest. Goro sat in his lap, leaning on him. Goro’s head perfectly tucked in his neck, Ren smiled. “You know, Goro…”  
  
Goro looked up at him.  
  
“I’m glad we came.”  
  
Goro chuckled. “Me too… Merry Christmas, Ren.”  
  
Ren kissed his forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Hope you enjoyed it~ You can come talk to me on Twitter [@ReRePersona](https://twitter.com/rerepersona/) if you want!)


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